


my own damn fault

by amenorwhatever (notquitekaren)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Other, Where is Peter Nureyev?, blatant use of the peter nureyev alias generator, on a resort planet drinking his pain away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquitekaren/pseuds/amenorwhatever
Summary: Peter Nureyev attempts to forget about Juno Steel.Title from "Margaritaville" by Jimmy Buffet, because that's the song I listened to on repeat while writing this.





	my own damn fault

“Oh, do be careful!” the cabbie insisted, catching Peter as he tripped over his own feet.

Peter grinned sheepishly. “I can’t walk a meter without falling over, I’m afraid,” he replied in a loud, affected tone. “You’ve been absolutely helpful, my dear.”

With a wave, he collected his luggage and walked into the lobby of the gorgeous resort, feeling relaxed already. The pink ribbon around his floppy white hat matched the carpet. It wasn’t the first time he’d been to Plao-14. The lovely resort planet was a perfect place to lay low after close calls. The Everland was the height of luxury, and he’d been there so many times in the past decade that the staff recognized him on sight.

They had an actual front desk with primly dressed agents--part of the vintage charm, they claimed. Peter strolled up to the closest one, his magnetic luggage floating behind him.

“Good afternoon,” the agent greeted. Her name tag claimed she was Erin. “Do you have a reservation?”

Peter smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, digging around in his cardigan pockets. “I’ve stayed here before, though, I hope you aren’t all booked up.”

“Mr. Fisher, is that you?” a voice interrupted from the other side of the lobby. He turned and squeaked in surprise.

“Poppy!” he shouted, dropping all the items in his hands.

The employee sidled up to him with a beatific smile, and leaned down to help pick up the papers and keys that fell. “Mr. Fisher, it’s good to see you.”

Peter made an impatient noise. “We’ve known each other four years, Poppy, you can call me Micah.”

“It’s unprofessional,” they insisted, as always. “Erin, would you be so kind as to check in Mr. Fisher to the Crown Suite on the top floor?”

“Of course, Mx.,” Erin responded, tapping at the holoscreen. “How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Fisher?”

“You can’t just give me the Crown Suite!” Peter argued, stuffing all his possessions back into his pockets. Micah Fisher was a clumsy, humble sort of rich person. He was very fun to be. “And I’m planning on at least two weeks, possibly a month.”

“We’ve upgraded the kitchen in the Crown Suite,” Poppy explained. “Management is a little hesitant to reserve it for VIPs until we’ve had some feedback, and you’re an old friend, Mr. Fisher, so you’re really doing us a favor.”

Peter clapped a hand to his heart. “Poppy,” he whined. “You’re too good to me.”

“It’s the Everland,” the manager replied. “We know how to treat guests.” They touched their ear and called for a bellhop.

Handing his credit card to Erin, he gave Poppy a look. “I don’t need a bellhop, Poppy, I’ve got magnetic luggage. It literally carries itself!”

“Well, if I’m not needed,” the bellhop said as he walked up. Peter smiled, eyes roving over his broad shoulders and blonde hair.

“Daniel,” Peter said, voice a little too intimate for casual conversation. He bit his lip and glanced at Poppy, playing coy. God, Micah Fisher was fun.

“You’re all set, Mr. Fisher,” Erin said, handing him his credit card. “Your key is, of course, your previously set voice activation phrase. Have a fantastic stay.”

Poppy surveyed Peter with a slight frown. “If you don’t mind my saying, Mr. Fisher, you look rather unwell.”

Peter supposed that was true. He still had the bruise spanning from his temple down his jaw, and his pleated jumpsuit was hanging off him a little more than was fashionable. He shrugged. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” he explained without revealing anything. 

He’d been tailing a mark for a month, watching from a rooftop and memorizing her schedule. The day he decided to slip in and steal the figurine was, of course, the day the heiress had decided to triple her security. Peter had made it out with his prize, of course, but not after a nasty fight that left a little more blood on his hands than he was comfortable with. 

Poppy narrowed their eyes, looking concerned. Of course, they and the rest of the staff at the Everland believed he was an eccentric architect who stayed at their hotel once or twice a year. Micah Fisher was not the kind of man who would get into bar fights or any other situation where he would end up bruised.

Peter smiled at Daniel to deflect. “Why don’t you show me up to my room, then?” he suggested. “I do need some rest.”

Poppy gave him a smile, but while the rest of their smiles had been genuine, this one was the default customer service smile. “Of course, Mr. Fisher. Don’t forget about our Sunset Cocktail Hour at poolside.”

He wiggled his fingers in a goodbye wave before strutting to the elevators, Daniel guiding his magnetic luggage behind him. When they were alone in the glass elevator, Peter allowed himself to look more slowly at Daniel.

“You look really good,” he complimented, looking up through his lashes at the bellhop.

Daniel pursed his lips. “I can’t flirt with you while I’m on the clock,” he said warningly, not looking particularly worried about it.

Peter laughed. “Like that’s ever stopped either of us before.”

The last time Peter had been here, Daniel had snuck up to his room every night after his shift ended. He had hoped the arrangement could be similar this time.

The elevator doors slid open, and Peter took the time to lick his lips before stepping into the hall. The Crown Suite occupied about a third of the top floor, and when he reached the door, he leaned to the microphone and murmured “blossom.”

The renovation had been a good decision. The floor plan was more open, and the kitchen looked absolutely state of the art. The bedroom area was closed off with layers and layers of gauzy curtains. Daniel steered his luggage to the side of the door.

“If that will be all, Mr. Fisher,” the bellhop prompted. At Peter’s searching look, he sighed. “Look, I’ve got a boyfriend now.”

Peter huffed and immediately felt bad. “Congratulations,” he said in a bitter tone that was too real for comfort.

Daniel looked down. “He’s, uh, polyamorous though? So maybe if I ask him--”

Peter waved a hand. “No, no, don’t worry about it. We really should have never slept together in the first place, it put your job in unnecessary jeopardy.” He turned away towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the mountain range outside. “I need some rest.”

He heard Daniel leave and close the door behind him. So that was one of his three favorite coping mechanisms, gone. Daniel was perfect, too-- they’d been together before, they had a natural chemistry, and Daniel could pick Peter up and slam him against a wall, if Peter so desired. Most importantly, his fair, freckled skin and wavy blond hair meant he looked absolutely nothing like Juno.

Peter sat down in the middle of the floor and put his heads in his hands. Even thinking his name sat heavy in Peter’s chest, like a black hole had made its way into his ribcage. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about the detective since he had left Mars-- nearly a year ago, now-- but it was the first time he’d allowed himself to linger. Juno had been particularly distracting as of late. He couldn’t walk a meter without seeing his phantom, in the set of someone’s shoulders or in the blue of their eyes or in an upturned coat collar. It was quite pathetic, really. Nearly a year, still stuck in a hotel bed on Mars, staring at the door and praying for his detective to waltz back in. Maybe carrying coffee and donuts, wearing a sheepish smile and saying he got hungry. Or hunched into his coat, the circles under his eyes telling Peter he couldn’t sleep, while the lady blustered and deflected with his trademark attitude. He wouldn’t have even minded if Juno had come back to yell at him and tell Peter to get out of his life forever.

He’d thought Juno Steel could be his home. He had offered the galaxy to the detective, but he’d been soundly rejected. It made sense, he decided. The last time he’d dragged Juno off on an adventure, they’d both been tortured half to death and the detective had lost an eye. It made perfect sense. He’d offered Juno a choice, and of course, the lady had chosen the option which meant he’d never have to see the thief who had abandoned him again.

He massaged the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses halfway off his face. Peter came to this lovely resort planet to forget about Juno Steel, or at the very least, dull the pain with pretty people, pretty views, and pretty drinks. He forced himself to his feet, clenched his hand to stop its shaking, and went to the fully stocked bar in the kitchen in search of some gin.

**Author's Note:**

> lmk if there are any tags i should add to the fic
> 
> amenorwhatever on tumblr


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